


come a little closer

by chansuk



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: 80's AU, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 23:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17374877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chansuk/pseuds/chansuk
Summary: wonpil aches for a dance with the cutest boy in school.





	come a little closer

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by every 80's cliche movie dance &  
> my heart, a youngpil fan
> 
> bleachers - rollercoaster &  
> cigarettes after sex - neon moon

it’s the senior dance. 

wonpil swoons, sighs heavily against the breadth of pause as he watches younghyun and his friends walk into the gym. his heart is palpitating against the small expanse of his chest and there’s this yearning that starts to kindle. his high school crush has him in the clutches of firsts and as he watches them make their way to the drink table, wonpil feels hope blossom. 

he’s leaning against the padded wall, hands laced across his thighs as he watches them bubble with laughter and look around. he shifts his weight onto his other foot, chews on the inside of his cheek and feels his heart linger on the edge of combustion. the music is lulling, a slow song that has wonpil wishing for those hands on his waist and that _gorgeous_ smile gracing him with just the tiniest bit of light. kang younghyun, hands down the most beautiful guy wonpil’s ever had the encounter of ever seeing. however, wonpil finds himself facing the impending crowd of people who also seek out younghyun and wonders if he’ll ever be that lucky. 

the people standing beside him are plucked one by one and he finds himself left amongst three people. he feels embarrassment rub him raw at how pathetic he probably looks. he brushes a fallen tendril of hair out of his eye and combs it to the side with gentle fingers, feels his heart skip when he briefly locks eyes with the male. it’s quick, curt and enough to warm wonpil’s ears. younghyun takes a sip of his drink, keeps the gaze set between them and wonpil can’t hear the music over his wild heartbeat.

though, just as wonpil thinks about mustering up the courage to cross that distance and risk it all, the gaze is broken and younghyun is being dragged off in another direction. wonpil let’s out the breath he’d been holding, wipes his sweaty palms on his dress pants; his tie is too tight and he’s starting to feel his nerves fray.

after a few minutes of subtle searching wonpil forgoes the formalities of it all and finds himself wandering over to the food table, unwrapping a cupcake and stuffing it in his mouth, hoping it’d calm the erratic pulse of his heartbeat still wound up in younghyun’s eyes. this isn’t the first time but somehow it feels like it, and the many times he’s had to emotionally salvage himself after holds a record amount. and it’s not like they don’t really know each other, right? younghyun sits in front of wonpil in class and sure, they’ve been partners multiple times and somehow he was able to scramble together sentences, but it still counts, right?

the times they’ve had to call each other at night, wonpil pulling the cord from the phone into the kitchen so his parents in the living room wouldn’t listen. how their group project was always pushed to the side for casual conversation, the way wonpil’s toes curled in his shoes when younghyun would have to whisper into the phone—oh how his heart leapt from the concave of his chest, eager to escape and be held. how wonpil would tell younghyun that he had to go to bed, but the other asking for five more minutes every time. though the moments they’ve spent in school were much more subtle, a whisper amongst the others. that still counts, right?

wonpil’s starting on his second cupcake, unbeknownst to the frosting on his nose when younghyun comes into view. he chokes down his bite, licks his lips and prays he doesn’t have any crumbs on the sides of his mouth. 

“hey,” younghyun says, the slight tug of a smile hinting at the corners of his lips. 

wonpil subtly clears his throat, mutters back a, “hey” in reply. 

“you have frosting—“ younghyun motions around his nose.

the warmth stems to wonpil’s cheeks as he fumbles for a napkin off the table to wipe his nose, mortified that younghyun had strong evidence of him divulging too greatly in his cupcake. “am i good?” wonpil asks through his apparent embarrassment.

younghyun lightly chuckles and stuffs his hands into his pants pockets, head cocked to the side. “you’re good.”

the silence between them grows and wonpil finds himself clutching onto his napkin in his hand for dear life, both of them billowing in the breeze of unsureness and wandering thought. wonpil doesn’t know how long his heart will be able to go on, every nerve in his body alive and buzzing in the presence of kang younghyun, cutie extraordinaire. he wants to say something, ask him if he’s enjoying himself but the words get stuck and he’s choking down anxiety.

“are you…” younghyun pauses, brings a hand up to his neck and drops his gaze for a quick second; wonpil waits in drawn out anticipation. “here with someone?”

wonpil tries to breathe, feels a flutter in his stomach at the question, and says, “no.”

“oh, okay,” younghyun replies, gives a slight nod and the silence between them grows once more. 

wonpil digs this thumb nail into his forefinger, manages to get out an, “and you?”

“uh, no.” younghyun’s hand falls, finds its way back into his pocket—his staple look that always has wonpil swooning from the base of the school building as younghyun always leans against the brick wall every morning, his friends gathered around him. wonpil can never seem to catch a break, finds himself losing his footing on reality the longer younghyun stands in front of him. this always seems to happen, the constant heart pounding that has his chest on the verge of caving, his words that lose themselves in another dimension as he starts slipping into younghyun’s universe.

“oh, that’s good,” wonpil splutters, finds himself stumbling over his outward thought. “i mean—it’s not good you don’t have a date but i mean, good because now you know you’re not the only one?” he swallows, _i’m an idiot._

younghyun softly smiles, the one that makes wonpil’s knees weak and his mouth dry. “i was waiting for the right person to ask me,” he tacts on, pulls wonpil from the world he’s drifting into. 

“oh,” wonpil whispers, fingers grasping onto the end of his blazer sleeves in hopes it’ll save him from what he’s feeling. he tries to return the favor but he’s biting onto the bottom of his lip, because _of course_. it makes total sense that younghyun, the most sought out guy in school, would want the right person to ask him to the dance; he feels envy and solace fill him to the brim. “that makes sense.”

and there it is, that same silence wonpil has encountered many times before this, and he should find it uncomfortable or awkward but there’s a comfort in it. maybe it’s being in younghyun’s presence or how he makes him feel things that he doesn’t feel with anyone else. he knows it won’t last a minute longer so he clutches onto that silence and swallows down false hope and gathers whatever bits of courage that grow in his garden of hesitation.

“i was—“

“do you—” they both start, wide-eyed and wonpil’s chest constricts. 

“you first.” wonpil waves.

younghyun runs a hand through his hair, tugs on a small strand before he says, “i was hoping you’d ask me actually.”

“ _oh_.” wonpil breathes. he thinks about what younghyun had said once more, repeats it a few more times before it starts to make sense and feels excitement brew. goosebumps litter across the expanse of his skin and there’s this rush of gold at the base of his neck that makes him curl with pleasure.

“is that a good ‘oh’ or…?” younghyun gazes at him in question, a look in his eyes that has wonpil tripping over his self doubt. 

“i was hoping you’d ask me,” wonpil clarifies, chuckling at their lack of communication. suddenly all the expectations from before don’t matter and wonpil’s small bit of hope flourishes into something tender and radiant, something he can handle. 

younghyun’s lip quirk into that same smile from earlier, the one that got lost in surprise, and it’s even brighter than before; wonpil feels winded. “it seems we were both waiting on each other then.”

“it seems so.”

younghyun takes a step closer to wonpil, the distance between them closing in and wonpil considers it fate when a slow song starts. “what were you going to say?” he asks, takes his other hand out of his pocket and let’s it dangle by his side. wonpil tries not to stare at the fine features of younghyun’s face, how there is just the faintest bit of a rosy glow tinging the highpoint of his cheeks. it instills confidence within him. 

“do you want to dance?” he rushes, feels his heart in his throat and almost chokes from anticipation. 

younghyun’s laugh fills the air, saccharine to wonpil’s ears and alleviating the pressure he feels in his chest. “i would love to,” he answers and holds his hand out for wonpil. 

wonpil haphazardly stuffs the napkin in his pocket and subtly wipes his hand on his pants before placing it in younghyun’s. he offers a smile and finds himself blooming with warmth when younghyun gives his hand a slight squeeze, making his heart do one final leap. and it’s almost sweet, wonpil had never expected it, the way their hands fit so explicably well.


End file.
